Until we meet again my love!
by royalprincessbon
Summary: Series of cute and sometimes angsty short-stories. Jeanmarco, rated for angst and too much feels.
1. Ashes to Ashes

This is the first time I've written a jeanmarco fanfic, it's also the first time I cried writing anything. It's short, but it's really cute! ...okay sorry I lied...

This will probably become a series of short-stories. Some will be sad and angsty (like this one) but others will be really cute (like the one I'm working on right now, I will not tell you any details tho).

Also, this was a prompt from one of my friends. I hope you'll like it, and cry yourself to sleep, dear 3

**Disclaimer**: Since I own this whole series and everything I suppose this fanfic will make the pairing canon... or not, at least let me have dreams.

* * *

Jean couldn't do anything else but stare at the corpse in front of him, the only thing left of his best friend. The remains of his massacred body stared up at him, judging him with his cold and empty eyes. _'Why weren't you here when I needed you? Why didn't you save me?'_ A shiver crawled up Jean's spine, made him shudder. "Ma-marco...?" He swallowed hard. It was not possible, it couldn't possibly be Marco, just some random dude who looked just like him. It was not his Marco, not _**his**_ Marco. At least that's what he tried to convince himself of. But he_** knew**_...

He knew the man on the street, with his half-eaten body thrown against the wall. He'd watched his sleeping face for so long, seen his face twisted in pain and fear. He'd been by his side at nights when the memories of his former home kept him awake, comforted him while holding back his own tears. Always always by his side, together forever. Or that's how it was supposed to be, but it wasn't. Not anymore. Yet while looking at Marco's body, he kept telling himself it was just a bad dream; a terrible nightmare. That he'd wake up in the morning and Marco would be smiling at him like always. He'd be looking at him with his with the same friendly expression as usual.

He opened his mouth, reaching out his shivering hands towards the older male. "Oi, wake up..." Jean let his fingers slide over Marco's cold body, over his freckled face. "Marco..." He leaned down, closed the distance between them. "Don't leave me Marco." Marco kept staring back at him; cold, empty, _dead_. "Ma..." The rest of his name got cut off as Jean began to sob. "Please Marco, I beg you... Don't die." Tears slowly began to sipper down his cheeks. He cried out his name, over and over. Reminiscing about the past, the time they shared. He sat down beside the crippled body, took Marco's left hand in his. "You know, I never got to say it when you were alive. But I..." He slowly began, closing his mouth halfway into the sentence. It was no longer any idea to tell him. He was already gone.

_A freckled angel stood in front of the mourning boy, smiling sadly. Before he knew it he was kneeling down, and embracing the man sitting side by side holding hands with his corpse. "Jean, I already know what you are going to say. I figured it out ages ago." He murmured softly into the blondes ear. "I knew it, but never said anything at all. I pretended to be asleep while you whispered it to me, while you kisses me..." He muffled his sobs and continued with tears flowing down his transparent face, dripping onto Jean's shoulder as he whispered everything into his ear. "The only regret I have in life, is not telling you my own feelings." Slowly he moved his face and lightly brushed against the other boy's lips with his own. "I love you Jean. Farewell my love... Until we meet again."_

* * *

I'm so sorry! Don't hate me, I warned you! Still, review and tell me what you think about it.

Guess I'm done now, and next short-story will probably be done by tomorrow. So see you later!


	2. Ice-skating beauty

Well, I like my Marco a bit shy, but I'd love it if he was the one trying to take the initiative as well. Jean may be a person who always says what he thinks, but I think his pride would get in the way while confessing his love. You'll probably get why after reading this. As always, please review!

I'm glad it came out the way I wanted to, cute right?

Also, modern AU.

xoxo

**Disclaimer: **I own nothing but the plot and the tears I always shed for this ship.

* * *

It was cold outside, and the ground was covered by a layer of snow. Every white flake was unique, some more delicate than others. A peaceful breeze rustled through the naked tree-tops. The nearby skating-rink was filled with people; children that was playing on the ice, even an elderly couple was skating around hand in hand, smiling lovingly at each other. A teenage boy was teaching his friend how to skate.

"Oh god, how do you even do this?!" Marco giggles, his hands in-front of him like it would help him keep the little balance he had. Small puffs of hot breath escaped from his mouth when he opened it to speak. "It's pretty cold, isn't it?" He smiled softly and tried to move closer to to the man keeping him company, attempting to start a conversation.

"It sure is..." Jean chuckled lightly, reached out his hand to the brunette in front of him and pulled him towards him. Made the distance between them cease inch by inch. He made sure to keep him near. But at the same time, he made sure to keep enough distance for him to be able to keep his self-control. He took a deep breath, 'calm down Jean' he told himself.

"Follow my lead." The blond extended his reach and grabbed the older male's hand. At first he just stood still, legs parted. He began sliding his right foot in a bow before shooting it out in front of him, still moving his right foot forward he began doing the same movement with his left foot. "Do exactly as I did. Right foot first, then the left one. Okay?" He demonstrated once more before sliding back and clutched his partner's hand. Marco began doing the motion together with Jean, one step at a time. "See, it's not that hard." Jean patted his head, praised him. "You try it now."

Another teenage-pair skated past them, towards the side of the rink. The female giggled and reached out for the man, turned her face up to meet her friend's lips. Marco kept watching the couple as they bade each other goodbye. Both of the boys knew them, it was Christa and Reiner. They looked so happy together, Marco looked up at Jean and noticed that he wasn't the only one who couldn't tear their gaze from the overly-affectionate couple.

Marco slipped out of Jean's loosened grip. "Have you ever kissed somebody?" He kept playing nervously with his hands, his face a bit flushed. The time seemed to slow down, and everyone around them were no longer there. Jean began scratching his neck, "O-of course! I've kissed hundreds of girls already." Marco couldn't help but smile wryly, he knew the younger boy was lying. "Then, have you ever thought about kissed a guy?" He loved seeing the reaction on Jean's face as he said it. His face turned into a deeply red shade. "Wh-what! N-no. Never. I'm no homo!" Jean kept turning redder and redder; there was no way Marco could ever know he'd never kissed anybody, neither that the only one he wanted to kiss was him.

Marco lifted his hand and covered his mouth, hid the creepy smile that covered his face. He had to do this, this was his chance. Jean's face was finally turning back to it's normal tone. The brunette leaned forward and gave the younger male a peck on the lips. The blonde flushed again, his eyes wide open.

The blushing Jean reached up and touched his lips, whatever just happened had to be an accident. "You had some snow on your lips..." Marco grinned and winked. "And by the way, I already know how to skate." He turned around and moved away from his friend, before making a pirouette. "_See, it's not that hard. You try it now._" He teased. Jean stared at the brunette, stood there dumbfounded with his fingers still touching his lips.

* * *

Oh god, I can't help loving this ship so much. It's really cute isn't it? Review and tell me about your thoughts, and any eventual scenarios you'd like to read but are too lazy to write yourself.


End file.
